


cracking a cold one with the bunker boys

by pen_light



Series: babbles from one in the am [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Beer, Bunker, Coda, Episode: s13e19 Funeralia, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Post-Episode: s13e19 Funeralia, idk how to tag, kinda not too much, wow how to TAG
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 08:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14398503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pen_light/pseuds/pen_light
Summary: The bunker was quiet when the brothers entered, their footsteps tired and heavy, echoing along the creaks of the wound, metal stairs across the opening where the main table lied.Dean led the way, approaching said table. He dropped the bag on this shoulder with no regard for sound or caution, a sigh heaving out as his shoulders were alleviated. Sam followed in suit, only a little more gracefully.The bunker was quiet, serene. The air was a little chilled, due to the lack of presence, and Dean could distinctly feel the emptiness stretch across the area.“Cas isn’t back,” he noted shortly.Sam looked at his brother, reading past the bloody bruises. The younger looked down, shuffling to start unpacking their supplies. “He’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”Dean snorted and copied Sam’s motions. “Easier said than done.”“He can handle himself, ya know?”“Yea,” Dean paused, taking a moment to disassemble the gun in his hands. “I know.”alt; the boys are back at the bunker and eventually there's beer





	cracking a cold one with the bunker boys

**Author's Note:**

> my first coda!!! woo!!!! idk where this came from lol. i kind of hung up on castiel’s expression when he gripped onto the sand and yea.

The bunker was quiet when the brothers entered, their footsteps tired and heavy, echoing along the creaks of the wound, metal stairs across the opening where the main table lied.

Dean led the way, approaching said table. He dropped the bag on this shoulder with no regard for sound or caution, a sigh heaving out as his shoulders were alleviated. Sam followed in suit, only a little more gracefully.

The bunker was quiet, serene. The air was a little chilled, due to the lack of presence, and Dean could distinctly feel the emptiness stretch across the area.

“Cas isn’t back,” he noted shortly.

Sam looked at his brother, reading past the bloody bruises. The younger looked down, shuffling to start unpacking their supplies. “He’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

Dean snorted and copied Sam’s motions. “Easier said than done.”

“He can handle himself, ya know?”

“Yea,” Dean paused, taking a moment to disassemble the gun in his hands. “I know.”

They fell into a pattern--arranging, taking apart, and moving around the bunker all in synchronization. Towards the end of it all, Dean began speaking again.

“He shouldn’t have to go alone. Or at all. Do you know how many angels are after his sorry ass?”

Sam sighed. He braced himself for a series of rants and concerns that Dean had been expressing more than usual since the angel’s return. “Dean…”

“He always goes waltzing up there, even after everything those dicks have done. Or, well, haven’t done.”

“Dean. I hate it too. I really wish we could go wit—“

“We can,” Dean stopped and stared at Sam. The words were spoken with such sincerity, Sam, himself, couldn’t help but pause to consider it.

“We can’t. You know that,” Sam tried to reason. Dean didn’t look convinced (and, to be frank, Sam was starting to seem skeptical too).

Dean looked around and gave a small nod, a gesture meant to end the conversation. “You should get some rest. I doubt Rowena was gentle.”

Sam glared. “Says the guys that got pummeled by her spellbound bodyguard.”

“Shut up.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“Nope. Bloody and bruised, I’ve got the charm,” Dean flashed him a smile, throwing some handguns in the mix.

Sam scrunched his face, wondering if it was worth commenting on that. He settled with his bitch-face. “Right.”

Dean raised his hands, letting out a “What?”. Finishing off the last item, Sam waved his brother off without a second thought.

Dean shook his head. “You wish you had all this charm!” He yelled after his brother, only to be ignored again.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean walked across the bunker, heading for the kitchen along the hall. As he did, he rolled his shoulders back, stretched his neck with a tilt, and shrugged his flannel on straight. There was a small itch in his hands, more of an anticipatory one than an addicted one. The bruises were sore and burning. A little alcohol could definitely do him good. Just some beer and a burger.

Dean shivered a little at the thought of his bacon cheeseburger sitting in his room. “Damn that reaper.”

The kitchen light as already on, and while that may be an alarming sign, it wasn’t enough to stir a reaction with the hunter. He’d just taken down a large, deranged military trained hunk. He could take whatever was in that room between him and his beer.

Dean walked through the doorway and into an empty kitchen. He bee-lined for the fridge, ready to instinctively grab at that bottom side shelf for a nice cold bottle of ale.

He opened the fridge, reached down, and froze. Inching up slowly, Dean frowned as he peered into the gap between the counters and the island.

“Cas?”

The angel was just sitting, slumped against the bottom cupboards. His legs were stretched out and splayed. His shoulders were rolled forward and down in quite the depressed manner. His head was bowed forward slightly. In his hands, loosely gripped, was the beer bottle Dean that handed over before. The lid was open, but Dean could see the liquid through the light.

Castiel did not answer. There wasn’t a reaction, not even a twitch.

Dean’s paused hand reached forward slowly and grabbed a beer. Slowly closing the fridge door, the hunter made his way down to the floor, in front of the angel, a little to the side, legs outstretched the same way.

“Cas?”

The angel blinked and looked away from the point his gaze was transfixed on. His eyes were glazed over, as if he wasn’t present even if he was. With a few breaths in between, the angel frowned and tilted his head.

“Dean, you’re hurt,” he spoke deeply and softly.

“Oh, so you can talk,” Dean muttered.

The tilt remained and concern turned into confusion.

Dean sighed. “Never mind.”

Castiel nodded slightly and leaned back into the position he was in. The angel didn’t return to his state in the air, but instead began to scan Deans face.

“I’m fine,” Dean repeated. Castiel, as always, wasn’t quite convinced.

Moments passed. Dean clicked his tongue and flicked his gaze between the beer and Cas. With a hefty push off of the ground, the hunter jumped towards the fridge and let his habits guide his way.

Castiel followed Dean’s movements curiously. The said man stepped towards the angel and plucked the old beer bottle away only to replace it with a fresh new cold one.

Dean shuddered at the warm bottle in his hand. The alcohol swished a bit, and Dean made a sour face as he tried to imagine the taste of lukewarm, stale beer.

“These things taste best when cold,” Dean explained, setting the bottle back in the fridge. He turned around to sit back down with the angel. “I really hope you didn’t sip th—” Dean froze.

The bottle left Castiel’s lips empty.

“Jesus, Cas,” The hunter breathed out. “You trying to get drunk or something?”

“Just take to off the edge,” The angel answered smoothly. “I was told if I worked at this pace, it’d do that.”

Dean sat back down, wondering if he should indulge his friend. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Castiel shrugged. “I am still trying to process it myself.”

“It didn’t go well upstairs, then, did it?” Dean brought his own beer bottle to his lips.

Castiel didn’t answer.

A few moments passed. “How’s Sam?”

“Sammy’s fine. Just a little worn out. Rowena, uh…” Dean wiped his face. He chuckled dryly. “It’s a long story. One I’m not sure I get yet.” He reconsidered his words. “Well, maybe I do.”

“We’ve got time. And beer,” Castiel pointed out, lifting his empty bottle as evidence.

The green eyed hunter smiled. “Now you’re learning,” he chortled, shifting to stand up again.

“Dean, I’ll get it,” Castiel pushed up. He wobbled a little, at which Deans hand shot up to brace. Rebalancing himself, the celestial headed for the fridge, going straight for the unopened 6-pack. Dean couldn’t help but laugh slightly.

Castiel handed the beer over, brushing his hands against Dean’s arm. A pulse of grace flooded the hunter, the warmth comforting the areas that were bloodied and bruised.

Dean didn’t find it in himself to protest. “Thanks Cas.”

“Would it kill you guys to drink anything healthier?” Sam called out from the entrance of the kitchen. The younger strolled in, ruffling his wet hair with the towel in his hair. “Hi Cas.”

“Not if the alternative is rabbit juice,” Dean mumbled.

“No,” Castiel stated at the same time. “Hello Sam.”

Sam simply glared at the duo. “What’s happening here anyways?”

“We are going to drink and tell each other our confusing stories. Want to join?” Castiel explained. The angel squinted, noting the exhaustion on the other’s face. “Are you okay?”

“Yea,” Sam brushed the concern off with a quick grin. “Even when Rowena doesn’t want to kill you, she sure packs a punch.”

Castiel made a face. Dean chuckled.

“That’s not even the processing part. Death-- I mean, Billie-- was there.”

Castiel’s eyes widened slightly. He crouched down and grabbed a beer.

“How about you, Cas?”

“The angels are going extinct. Heaven may shut down. Naomi’s still alive,” Castiel answered quickly. He raised his bottle and tipped his head back.

Sam’s eyebrows rose, and with shared look with his brother, the two did the same.

Given another moment, the three locked gazes. The cold beer remained in their hands. There was a brief wave of serenity brought by their togetherness.

“So, who’s going first?”

**Author's Note:**

> hoped you liked it. sorry for any mistakes. kinda was in a rush to get this out before the day began. 
> 
> find me on tumblr!--> pen-light.tumblr.com
> 
> reblog this on tumblr!--> https://pen-light.tumblr.com/post/173193401454/cracking-a-cold-one-with-the-bunker-boys-spn


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